


Credibility Credentials

by Salmon_Pink



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Teen Wolf Femslash Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-10
Updated: 2014-08-10
Packaged: 2018-02-12 15:45:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2115615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salmon_Pink/pseuds/Salmon_Pink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're fake-dating. For the good of the pack. It isn't complicated. Lydia won't let it be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Credibility Credentials

**Author's Note:**

> Set during Season Four, with no specific plot spoilers. Written for [Teen Wolf Femslash Week](http://twfemslash.tumblr.com/week), prompt "tropes".

“Stop glowering,” Lydia hisses out of the corner of her mouth, which just makes Malia glower all the harder. A few people blink owlishly in their direction, some even shoot them suspicious looks, so Lydia sighs internally and goes on the charm offensive. Smiling, flipping her hair, laughing coyly at tired jokes.

She’s tilting her head and smiling up through her eyelashes at a tall but gangly teenage boy when Malia grabs her by the elbow, steers her away.

“ _That_ was rude,” Lydia says with a roll of her eyes, but Malia looks sullen, twitchy, and she can’t help but take pity. “C’mon, it’s only for another hour. This is where the coven hangs out, we just need to be seen for our alibi.”

“And we have to pretend to be dating?” Malia asks for what feels like the fiftieth time.

“ _Yes_ ,” Lydia stresses, trying not to raise her voice. “Everyone in the coven is queer, we need to ping their radars.”

Malia fixes her with a Look. Which is pointless, because Lydia basically _invented_ the Look. “So why were you flirting with that guy?”

Okay, that’s a good point. “I was flirting with _everyone_ ,” she insists, trying to shrug off being caught out. Flirting with guys when she’s after something is so instinctive, she barely notices anymore. “I had to do something to make up for you trying to set everyone on fire with your eyes. And there’s nothing to say I can’t be attracted to _all_ genders.”

Malia breathes out slowly. Lydia realises distractedly that Malia’s still holding her arm when she’s tugged closer.

Malia’s skin is a little flushed in the afternoon sun, turning pink at the shoulders. There’s a hint of perspiration at her throat, and her eyes are narrowed and so intense they feel like they could _burn_.

“You’re supposed to be my girlfriend, right?” she growls, voice low and dangerous. “So that means you only flirt with _me_.”

Lydia’s not expecting the way her breath catches in her throat.

She manages to nod, eyes wide, and Malia’s fingers tighten for a moment around her arm before she gives a satisfied jerk of her head and lets go.

Lydia glances around nervously, but nobody’s looking at them, which is a relief. Right up until she remembers people are _supposed_ to be looking at them.

“We should make out,” she says decisively. Her heart is racing a little.

Malia tilts her head. “Okay,” she shrugs, and then her hands are in Lydia’s hair and her mouth is hot and _fierce_.

*

“You _kissed_?” Kira asks, biting her lip a little. Her eyes are smiling.

“It was part of our disguise,” Malia informs her.

“For credibility,” Lydia agrees.

“The coven noticed you, then?” Scott prompts, with his own grin.

Lydia thinks about the slide of Malia’s lips, the hand in the back pocket of Lydia’s jeans, the way she’d dragged Lydia up on to tiptoes and kissed her so _deep_.

Thinks about how there’d been nobody to see later when Malia dragged her into an alley, Lydia’s back against the bricks, her skirt around her waist.

“Yup, pretty sure they did,” she offers sunnily.

Stiles almost chokes on the pen-cap he’s chewing.

*

“Why Malia?” Lydia’s not complaining, exactly. She’s just curious.

“Because they’ll be able to smell Scott and Kira on each other, so neither of them will work,” Derek’s voice says tersely, a little tinny through the speaker phone.

It’s positively _adorable_ , the way Scott and Kira both glance at the ground, each other, and then the ground again, both turning pink.

“You need the other pack to believe Lydia’s been _claimed_ ,” Derek explains, and Lydia opens her mouth to complain about that, because she’s nobody’s property, thank you very much. But Derek barrels on, possibly having heard her annoyed little intake of breath. “Malia’s the next best choice - she’s trusted and powerful. If I were in town, I’d offer, but obviously I’m a little preoccupied right now.”

Lydia considers that, considers Derek acting like her boyfriend, her _mate_. He’s undeniably attractive, but it’s not an easy picture to conjure in her mind in the way it has been with Malia.

“ _I_ could try,” Stiles offers.

“You’re not supernatural,” Derek replies gruffly. “Not in the way Malia is.”

“Maybe next time,” Lydia tells him with exaggerated sweetness, patting Stiles’ hand. He pulls a face at her, and she grins and turns back to Malia. “Girlfriends again?”

Malia looks around them, at the way they’re all staring at her. “Sure,” she says, nonplussed. “No big deal.”

*

The windows of the car are fogged up, and Malia’s breathing harshly against her throat. Her hands slide up Lydia’s thighs, push her legs apart so Malia’s hips can slot between them like they _belong_ there.

Lydia tilts her head back, pants at the air.

“Do you think this is enough?” Malia asks, looking up at her darkly. There’s a smirk teasing one corner of her lips. “Do you think this is believable?”

She’d been there, of course, to hear Derek explain it over the phone. They needed to swap clothes for the rest of the day, maybe hold hands or hug or something right before they left to meet with the other pack, and Lydia remembers trying not to laugh, because there was something patently ridiculous about the way Derek said ‘hug’ as if the word personally offended him.

There was nothing in the instructions about making out in the backseat of Lydia’s car.

“I think we should probably kiss a little longer,” she says as solemnly as she can, with her chest heaving and her fingers flexing against Malia’s waist. She’s so damn _wet_ , throbbing and aching for it. “Just to make sure we _really_ smell like each other.”

Malia’s smile is slow and filthy. “Good idea,” she murmurs, and goes back to sucking hickies into Lydia’s neck.

* 

Kira’s biting her lip again, this time clearly trying not to giggle. Scott’s eyes are wide.

“Wow,” he breathes, mouth hanging a little open like he’s tasting them on the air. “You, um -”

Lydia crosses her arms smoothly, manages to look down her nose at him despite the height difference being clearly on his side. “Derek said this was risky, that the pack probably wouldn’t be fooled by only a single day of scent-marking. So we decided to be _thorough_.”

Scott nods like he’s not even aware his head is moving. “Yeah, that’s - good job then.” He gives them both that lopsided grin that makes him pretty much the only man Lydia’s willing to accept orders from. 

“What, what’s going on?” Stiles’ voice calls from the cellphone in Kira’s hand. The pack has only agreed to meet with supernaturals, and Stiles apparently smells too human to be welcome, magical spark or no. The only reason Lydia’s got a free pass is being a banshee and, according to their cover, her being a werewolf’s mate. Or werecoyote. Whatever. Either way, she’s needed, to see if she can sense death on any of this new pack.

“Tell you later,” Scott says in a voice brimming with barely-suppressed laughter and disconnects the line. “Ready?”

Malia’s hand slips into Lydia’s. “Ready,” she responds firmly, and Lydia’s been complaining all day that this plan is doomed to go to hell, but for some reason Malia’s tone makes her feel confident.

*

“At least nobody died,” Malia shrugs.

“How is that even _possible_ , though?” Stiles snaps.

The tips of Scott’s ears are bright red. “They didn’t believe the scent, that’s all.”

“But _how_?” Stiles drawls, waving his hands about like he’s gesturing to everything at once. “They believed Malia and Lydia, and they’re only _pretend_ mates. You guys are actually dating!”

Kira laughs nervously. “Yeah, but we went straight from school to preparing for the meeting to attending the meeting. We didn’t exactly have time to, uh, renew our scent.”

“What does that even _mean_?” Stiles groans.

“It means that mine and Malia’s scent was so strong, they thought Scott and Kira were lying about _their_ relationship,” Lydia explains curtly.

Malia gives her a proud smile.

Stiles gapes at them both.

“To be fair, I think they figured out we were lying and one of the couples was fake. They just assumed it was me and Kira.”

“What, since you didn’t _reek_ of each other?” Stiles blusters.

“Pretty much,” Kira confirms. “Next time we’ll take the time to make out first, just in case.” Scott exhales soft laughter, presses closer to her.

“Wait, _what_?” Stiles’ voice is getting higher-pitched by the second. His head whips between Malia and Lydia. “You made out!?”

“At least nobody died,” Malia says again.

*

“Who are we trying to convince _this_ time?” Lydia asks, folding herself into the seat beside Kira. “Another coven?”

“An incubus, actually,” Scott says with a wrinkle of his nose. “Apparently they’re most drawn to supernatural women, so it’d be killing two birds with one stone, to act like you’re both already involved.”

“Fair enough,” Lydia agrees, stealing a french fry.

Stiles is looking at her sideways, rubbing his temples a little. “Why does nobody ever want to be in a fake relationship with _me_?” he huffs.

Kira takes his hand and looks at him soberly. “Next time, I promise you can be in a fake relationship with Scott,” she intones.

Stiles fakes a haughty sniff. “That’s more like it.” He blocks Lydia’s next attempt to steal from his plate, and gives her a playful smirk. She sticks out her tongue.

“Am I fake-dating Lydia again?” Malia asks, appearing out of nowhere. 

“Yup.” 

Scott goes to hand her the pile of print-outs on the latest attacks, but she waves it away, looks at Lydia and jerks her head towards the cafeteria doors. “Lets go.”

Lydia hides her grin as she stands and follows. Malia steals Stiles’ entire plate of fries as they pass.

*

Malia’s teeth dig into her bottom lip. They’re on Lydia’s bed, and Malia’s above her, grinding down with her whole body, making Lydia groan and buck up into the pressure. “It _smells_ like you in here,” she hisses, like she’s accusing Lydia of something.

“I _sleep_ in here,” Lydia reminds her, voice trying for sarcastic but sounding too breathy, too turned-on.

“What _else_ do you do in here?” Malia mutters into the skin of Lydia’s shoulder.

Lydia grins, licks her lips. “Touch myself,” she whispers. “Fuck myself so slow it feels like I’m _dying_.”

There’s a tearing sound, the sheets shredding beneath Malia’s hands. “One day you’re gonna _show_ me,” she groans and Lydia nods and gets her hands on Malia’s head, pushes her face down right where she wants it.

*

Scott clears his throat awkwardly. Again. Lydia’s waiting for him to get on with it already.

“Just so you know,” he mutters under his breath, the two of them keeping up the pretence of being focused on the task on the blackboard. “An incubus doesn’t have the same sense of smell as a werewolf. So, you know.” He glances at her, back at the teacher, then back at the math problem. “You don’t have to do the scent-marking thing with Malia. If you don’t want to.”

She wonders just how _much_ he can smell. If she concentrates, Lydia imagines she can still feel Malia’s saliva on her inner thighs from their earlier hurried session in the bathroom. “It would have nice if you’d told me that earlier,” she tells him, and Scott drops the chalk and looks so _stricken_ she can’t keep up the tease. “It’s _fine_ , we’re just -”

“Being thorough?” he offers, smiling hesitantly.

Lydia nods, all business, finishing her equation with a flourish. “Being thorough,” she echoes.

When she turns back to her seat, Malia’s watching her intently, eyes sparkling.

*

“What is it this time? Another pack?”

Kira nods, smiling wryly. “Yep. It’s like the universe _really_ wants you two to keep being girlfriends.”

“ _Pretend_ girlfriends,” Lydia clarifies. Her nipples feel sensitive every time she moves, scraping against the inside of her bra. Malia had kissed and sucked and nibbled at them for a whole twenty minutes, keeping Lydia on the edge, fingering her shallow and gentle in a way she never is unless she wants to drive Lydia _crazy_.

Kira grins and shakes her head a little, before turning her attention back to her text book. She never pushes, even though Lydia can tell she _wants_ to. 

Lydia appreciates that.

*

Malia’s hands are on her hips, guiding her as Lydia rocks above her, as she fucks down against the thrust and curve of Malia’s tongue. Hands tight around the headboard, head thrown back, throat working as she moans and gasps.

Malia’s saying something, but the words keep getting slurred, and the vibration of them against Lydia’s cunt feels _incredible_. But she catches her name in there, repeated over and over, ringing in her ears when she comes.

*

“This is so weird,” Stiles tells her. “Because I feel like I need to have the ‘don’t mess with Malia, don’t break her heart’ talk, but it’s _you_.” His ankles are on the table, one foot jittering as he speaks. “But then I feel like I need to have the ‘treat Lydia like she’s the goddess she is’ talk with Malia, but you know.”

“It’s Malia,” Lydia supplies.

“It’s _Malia_ ,” Stiles says, rubbing at his knees. “My instincts want to be giving stern lectures, but I can’t, not when it’s you two.”

“So don’t give stern lectures,” Lydia answers. “Neither of us _need_ it, anyway.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Stiles sighs. “You’re both better at this than I am.”

“I’m better at _everything_ than you are,” Lydia smirks.

He laughs and nudges his shoulder against hers, and she elbows him, although it’s softer than she might be with anyone else, and she ends up leaning against his side.

“You remember that Malia and I are only _fake_ -dating, right?” 

“Yeah, okay,” Stiles scoffs, rolling his eyes.

She pushes him out of his seat and laughs at his squawk.

*

Malia’s lying beside her, eyes unfocused as she stares at the ceiling. She’s curled against Lydia’s body, breathing quietly as Lydia strokes fingers through her hair.

They’re naked and warm, pressed together so tight, and it’s about as content as Lydia’s ever been.

*

Scott waits patiently. Lydia feels kind of bad that she never returns the favour, that she always arches her eyebrow and radiates frustration when he’s struggling to find the words to tell her the latest bad supernatural news.

She opens her mouth, closes it again.

He reaches for her hand, holds it firmly. His eyes are so earnest. “It’s okay, Lydia,” he says. “Everything is going to be okay. Just _talk_ to her, it’ll be fine.”

Lydia nods around a tight throat, and squeezes his fingers.

*

“What’s the occasion?” Malia asks when Lydia backs her into a quiet corner of the library, fingers at Malia’s hips. “Rival pack? Handsy warlocks? Possessed cheerleaders? Who are we fooling this time?”

Something inside Lydia freezes, cold and unsure. Because there has to be a _reason_ , right, even though it’s always shaky and never quite enough to excuse their behaviour. 

But the excuses, they make it _easier_. After Jackson, after Aiden, after her powers kept getting stronger and stronger and she found more dead bodies than anybody should _ever_ have to see, she’s closed off certain parts of herself. She’s been more open with her friends, with the pack, but there’s a part of her heart that hasn’t been honest.

Who’s she fooling, other than herself?

She could lie. It would be easier than dealing with this crippling doubt. There probably _is_ a reason for them to be pretending this week, given how things have been playing out lately.

But she’s Lydia freakin’ Martin, she’s not going to hide from this any longer.

“Does there _need_ to be an occasion?” 

Malia looks at her with wide eyes, and Lydia stares right back, wills herself not to shake. 

She’s been bracing herself for it, but it’s still a surprise, just how _vulnerable_ she feels.

But then Malia’s dragging her forward with a moan that’s so sincere, so _desperate_ that Lydia feels dizzy. Malia kisses her like everything else has just been a warm-up, like she’s been waiting and waiting, and Lydia gets that, and maybe later she’ll feel guilty, but right now it’s _perfect_.

*

Malia mouths at her stomach, thumb pushed down on Lydia’s clit, fingers crooked inside. She’s murmuring Lydia’s name again, but now Lydia can hear the other words too. Hushed declarations and promises and words Lydia’s wanted to hear, _needed_ to hear, but only from Malia.

When Malia licks at her, Lydia cries out, spreads her thighs and drums her heels against Malia’s back and whimpers some declarations of her own.

*

“So, pretend relationships again,” Scott says with a sigh. “Except these guys, they’re from a cult, and they have some ass-backwards ideas about tradition. So we’ll be boy-girl for this one.”

“Does this mean _I_ get to be in a fake relationship with someone?” Stiles’ fist pumps into the air at Scott’s nod.

“You’re with Lydia.”

“I’m _not_ okay with that,” Malia says, hands on her hips, and Stiles stops his victory dance mid-running-man. 

She reaches out, takes Lydia’s hand in her own.

Kira is looking at them like she’s about to squeal in joy.

“Lydia’s _mine_ ,” Malia says with her usual sense of bluntness, and Lydia would protest at being referred to a possession, but for some reason she doesn’t mind at all.

“Fair enough,” Scott smiles. “You guys can sit this one out, no problem.”

“Man, I _never_ get to be in a pretend relationship,” Stiles grouses.

“Maybe we can put Derek in a wig,” Lydia suggests with a smirk.

Stiles blusters and Scott laughs and Kira beams at them as Malia pulls Lydia close, pressing her face to Lydia’s hair and inhaling their combined scent.


End file.
